


New York

by EASchechter



Series: On his Brother-in-Law's Secret Service. [14]
Category: Cabin Pressure, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EASchechter/pseuds/EASchechter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day spent being tourists in New York goes horribly wrong for Martin and Douglas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I've been in New York... I don't know... dozens of times," Martin said, looking up at the buildings as he and Douglas walked down the street. "I've never left the airport before."

"It's about time, then," Douglas said. "Now, there's a good restaurant down here. We'll have a bite, then head uptown. Is there anything you'd want to see, or should I pick?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Martin admitted. "Is that Stark Tower?" He pointed towards a tall building.

"Yes. You can tell from the enormous Stark on the side," Douglas answered.

"Very funny, Douglas," Martin said, squinting towards the top of the building. "Is there... what is that?" He frowned as a brilliant blue light burst upwards from Stark Tower and seemed to slice a dark gash in the sky. "Douglas?"

"I see it," Douglas said quietly. "I have no idea what it is, but I see it. Martin, I think now would be a good time to leave, don't you?"

Martin nodded slowly, not looking away from the dark hole in the sky. "Oh, dear God. There... something is coming through!" Small things -- ships! They were ships, swarming through the hole like Sherlock's bees. Bees with a far more dangerous sting; Martin gaped as the...whatever they were started firing. Then Douglas grabbed his arm.

"Come on!"

"Where?" Martin wanted to know. He could hear the explosions behind him as they turned and joined the crowd running away from Stark Tower.

"Someplace safe!" Douglas shouted back.

Martin avoided the question of where the hell "safe" might be, seeing something dark darting between the buildings in front of them. He grabbed the back of Douglas' shirt with one hand, and pulled the other man into the shelter of a building just as one of the small ships flew down the street, firing on the spot where they'd just been.

"Invasion," Martin said, breathing hard, keeping watch. "Something... someone... I don't know. Aliens."

"Like that vampire thing?" Douglas asked."You stopped that, though. You did."

"Not by myself, I didn't. We need to get out of here."

"Where?" Douglas asked.

"I don't know," Martin answered. "I don't know this city. The underground, maybe?"

"We'd be pinned like rats in a trap," Douglas said. "We need--"

Another explosion, closer, cut off Douglas' words. Martin flinched and looked out into the street. Chaos. "We need to keep moving. Try and get ahead of them. Maybe find a safe place," he said. "Thank God Carolyn and Arthur went to that amusement park."

"Can you protect us?" Douglas asked.

"Not while we're running. I don't even have my gun," Martin answered. "Come on." He looked out again, saw something overhead that looked very much like a dragon, and pointed in the other direction. "That way."

They ran like rabbits, ducking into whatever cover they could find, hiding from the small, incredibly maneuverable glider-things that were blowing things up everywhere they could see. They were almost caught by one explosion, and it took a combination of Douglas' quick thinking and Martin's strongest shields to protect them all from the blast. When they found their next hiding space, Martin slumped against the wall, panting like a racehorse.

"How do we fight them?" he demanded. "How can we?"

"We can't," Douglas answered grimly. Then he gasped, "But maybe he can!" Martin looked, and saw a man in red, white and blue, carrying a shield, engaged with several of the aliens on the ground. When he was done, he was the only one standing.

"That's Captain America!" Douglas continued. "Arthur told me about him. Never thought I'd agree with Arthur, but he's right. That man is brilliant."

"And he's holding his own," Martin added. "That's... all right. They can be defeated. Good to know. Come on, let's keep moving." He got to his feet, stepped out into the street, and had to jump backwards to avoid being hit by one of the alien pole-weapons. He staggered backwards, falling over a piece of debris and ending up on his back, staring up as the thing advanced, it's weapon raised. Martin heard Douglas shouting his name, but it was almost as if it was from a great distance. He raised his arm to block the strike, and felt a wash of power the like of which he'd felt only once before.

When the blow landed, it rang, the impact jarring Martin's bones. But it didn't take his arm off. Instead, it was absorbed, and Martin stared in wonder at the glowing blue kite-shaped shield now strapped to his left arm. His armored left arm. He didn't stop to think -- he rolled, scrambling to his feet. There was a weight in his right hand, and he glanced down, saw the sword that glowed with the same blue magic as the shield and the armor, and realized that he wasn't defenseless.

The glowing sword passed through the alien weapon without a hint of resistance, then cut down the alien just as easily.

"Martin, behind you!"

Martin turned at Douglas' shouted warning, seeing the small craft heading towards him. He reacted without thought, pointing the sword at the ship and shouting something he never could remember afterward. A ball of blue flame exploded from the tip of his sword and engulfed the alien glider; it veered away, crashing into the side of a building.

It was quiet, for a moment. Martin tipped back the visor on the helm he hadn't realized he was wearing, then looked down at himself. Magic armor had a lot going for it -- it was flexible, for one. There was a sheath on Martin's left hip, and he used it, sliding his sword home so he could pick up one of the discarded alien weapons. He took the pole-arm back to Douglas. "Think you can use this?" he asked.

"I'll figure it out, Sir Martin," Douglas said as he took the weapon. "Should I find some coconuts?"

It took Martin a moment to get the reference, then he grinned. "Maybe later. Or maybe I should start calling you Sancho Panza?"

"That might be more appropriate," Douglas admitted. "Bloody dangerous windmill, though."

"Right. Stay close. Let's see if we can't get out of this."


	2. Chapter 2

Douglas set the direction -- uptown. Away from Stark Tower, and towards the 59th Street Bridge.

"If we can get over the bridge, we'll be halfway back to the airport. The underground... sorry. The subways might even be running," he explained as he and Martin stopped to rest.

"Right," Martin said with a nod. "You're in charge, Douglas. Which way?"

Douglas pointed with the polearm. "That way. We're clear... see that restaurant there on the far corner?"

"Yes. Take cover there?"

"Good a place as any, I think." 

Martin looked out and scanned the skies. No sign of any of the gliders. "Right. Go!" He sprinted out, hearing Douglas behind him, focusing on the restaurant, on getting out of the open, off the streets. The intersection was the worst -- there was absolutely no cover at all. Martin was halfway across when he heard a woman scream. He stopped, and was almost bowled over by Douglas. 

"What are you doing?" Douglas demanded. Martin shook his head, searching. The woman screamed again, and this time, Martin saw her. She was crouched in a doorway, one of the aliens approaching. As Martin watched, the woman looked over her shoulder, then curled up tighter around...

"She's got a baby over there!" Martin gasped. He looked back at Douglas. "Get under cover!"

"Martin! What are you... Martin!"

Martin ignored Douglas, focused on the woman and child as he closed the distance between himself and the alien. The creature turned, but to late to defend, and it fell under Martin's furious attack. He turned towards the woman, then jumped as the pavement next to him sizzled and exploded. He ended up in the same doorway as the woman, and could finally see what a pile of debris and an upturned car had hidden from view. He stopped counting aliens at seven, knowing it didn't matter how many more there were. Even seven were too many. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked. 

"No," the woman whispered. "No, I'm not."

Martin nodded, then looked down at her as he sheathed his sword. "I'm going to get you out of here. Someplace safe--" he flinched back as another blast hit the wall, using his shield to protect the both of them from flying shards of concrete. Then he heard another blast, but this one didn't hit; Martin looked out, and saw Douglas, crouched behind the upturned car, taking careful aim with his alien weapon. He fired, then looked over at Martin.

"Don't just stand there!" Douglas shouted. "Shoot! The restaurant is full of people, too!"

Martin nodded, and this time he didn't bother with the sword. He held his hand up and let his palm fill with blue fire, then started throwing. It was oddly satisfying to see the aliens engulfed in cold fire, but there were more of them. A lot more.

"Douglas, there are too many!" he shouted.

"I know!" Douglas ducked as a blast hit too close to the car. 

Martin looked down at the woman, at the now crying baby, and closed his eyes for a moment. If he did this, he'd never see Liv again, or Violet. But if he didn't, he'd never be able to look himself in the mirror again.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly.

"Claire."

"And the baby?"

"Michael."

Martin nodded. "Good. I'm Martin. Now listen to me. I'm going to get you out of here, but you're going to have to help me. Can you do that?"

She looked up at him and nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"First, stand up." Martin waited until she was standing, then crouched and picked up one of the smaller pieces of shattered concrete off the ground. He concentrated for a moment, until the stone warmed in his hand. "Take this. Hold it tight."

"It's warm." She looked at him again. "I thought you were one of them. One of the superheros. But... you're a witch, aren't you?"

"Yes. You know what I'm doing?"

"A bit."

"Good. Then I don't have to explain too much. I put shields into the stone. Hold it tight, and those shields will protect you and Michael. See that restaurant over there?"

Claire moved in closer to him and nodded. "Yes. Is that where we're going?"

"Yes. On three. One... two..."

As he said the word "three," they both sprinted from cover like frightened rabbits. Martin had never had any hope of going unseen -- even if he cast his "you-can't-see-me-I'm-not-here" spell, it wouldn't work in broad daylight. The best he could hope for was to get them both across the street with a minimum of damage. He heard Douglas shout, heard more shots, but didn't bother to look. Instead, he kept himself between the aliens and Claire, and hoped that his shields would hold.

They did, but barely. He felt the heat as the shot splattered against his own shields, the impact knocking him to his knees as the energy blast raced across his nerves. He thought he shouted for Claire to keep going, but couldn't be sure with the sound of his blood racing in his ears. That _hurt_!

"Martin!"

The absolute terror in Douglas' voice made Martin look up, and he realized that he was a dead man. He was surrounded. Five aliens. He might get two, maybe three, before they killed him. 

Or he could go for four, and have an honor-guard in hell.

He pulled his shield back from wherever he'd sent it, felt his sword in his hand without having had drawn it. A sharp nod of his head brought the visor down, and he lunged at the alien closest to him. His attack took them by surprise, and he'd turned on a second before he felt the first impact against his armor. A glancing blow, it staggered him, but didn't knock him over the way the first one had. He stumbled back... and bumped into someone who caught him and steadied him before he fell.

"I've got you."


	3. Chapter 3

Martin turned, seeing the big man behind him. Huge, blond, bearded. Martin had never seen him before, but he somehow seemed familiar. He nodded at Martin, "You've done well for yourself," he said. He had an accent that Martin couldn't place. "Very well."

If he was going to say anything else, the aliens didn't want to hear it. They howled and attacked, and Martin was suddenly very busy. He wished he'd been able to pay more attention to his new fighting partner -- he could have sworn that the man had simply held his hand out, and an enormous hammer came flying to meet him. But that couldn't have really happened...

"How many are there?" Martin shouted over his shoulder.

"Too many!" the other man shouted back. "Until the gate is closed, they keep coming!"

"How do we close the gate?" Martin wanted to know. He glanced back, and saw the other man shake his head. "Hopefully, someone knows!"

"Someone does."

Two words, but the weight of them was enough for two hundred. And no time to consider any of them as another wave of aliens surged forward. Only to fall back as something very large and very green came roaring past them, picking up the overturned car and hurling it at the mass of aliens.

"Don't worry," the blond said, relaxing and letting his hammer dangle. "He's one of us."

"He... he is?" Martin gasped. He swallowed, and watched as the great green... well, he _looked_ like a man. Giant? Whatever he was, he went through the alien horde like a scythe, until all that was left were bodies. Then he came towards them, making a sound that seemed remarkably like laughter.

Maybe he was laughing. Martin looked around at the bodies, then looked up at the giant man. Who narrowed his eyes and huffed. Every coherent thought that Martin had ever had in his life fled, and he said the only thing he could think of. 

"Thank you."

The creature huffed again, but this time, it seemed to be amused. It nodded, once, then leapt into the air and was gone. Martin watched, then turned to the blond.

"What... no. Who was that?"

"They call him the Hulk." He smiled. "You do not know me, either?"

"I feel like I should, but--"

"I am Thor."

Martin's jaw dropped. "Yes. Yes, of course you are. And I'm an idiot. Martin. I'm... I'm Martin. Martin Crieff." He paused, then looked around a moment before looking back at Thor. "Should... should I bow? Or... or kneel? Or something?"

Thor was grinning broadly, obviously very amused. "No. None of that, Martin Crieff. Will you join us?"

"Where?" Martin asked. Then he heard a shout, and saw a familiar red-white-and-blue shield.

"Thor!" Captain America came running towards them. His cowl was gone, revealing him to be a handsome man of about Martin's age. He stopped and looked at Martin. "Who's this?"

"Martin Crieff," Thor answered. "A fine warrior."

"That's Captain Sir Martin Crieff," Douglas said from behind Martin. Martin turned, and was engulfed in a hug. "You damned idiot!" Douglas railed. "What was I supposed to tell your wife if you'd gone and gotten yourself killed?"

"That I saved someone's life?" Martin offered. Douglas just scowled at him. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. Baby is fine. Her husband was inside, and he's taking care of them both. And they'll probably name every boy that they have from now until they stop having children some variation on Martin. Now, can we get the hell out of here?"

"It won't do you any good," Captain America answered. "Not unless we get to the Tesseract and get that portal closed."

"Is there anything we can do?" Martin asked.

"Captain Sir Martin Crieff?" Captain America repeated. "Military?"

"Airline pilot," Martin clarified. "And Knight-Commander of the Royal Victorian Order. What can I do to help?" He heard Douglas groan, and turned to his first officer. "You can stay here. Guard that restaurant and those people."

"Oh, no. I'm staying with you, Captain. You have to protect me from your wife and all of her fathers."

Martin saw the look that passed over Captain America's face, the " _did I just hear that right and do I really want to know_?" look that he was so familiar with. Instead, he shook his head. "You two are civilians. Foreign civilians, at that. We can't ask you--"

"No one asked. We were drafted," Douglas drawled. "Look, can we continue this someplace less open?"

"He's right," Martin agreed. "We don't have time to talk. Just tell us where we're going and what we're doing."

Captain America looked at him, then sighed. "Right. Back to the Tower. Loki's up there, somewhere. So is Ironman."

Martin stole a look at Thor as Captain America said the name "Loki." The look on the god's face spoke volumes, and told Martin little. He tried to remember everything he'd ever read about Norse mythology, then dismissed it. He'd have time for review later. He hoped.

"Back downtown, then," he said brightly. "I have to say, this is a far more interesting tour of New York than I was expecting."

"Oh, I don't know. It reminds me quite a bit of Canary Wharf," Douglas said. "Which way, Captains?"

Captain America looked at Douglas. "Later, you'll tell me about Canary Wharf. Right now? That way."


	4. Chapter 4

It felt like it took hours to cover the same ground that Martin and Douglas had so recently passed as they'd fled from Stark Tower. Martin felt as if his arms were going to fall off, and his very bones ached from the impact of energy weapons and blades. To his surprise, Douglas kept up with him, and handled himself well, wielding the alien weapon as if he'd used one every day for years. As far as Martin knew, Douglas had no combat training, had no fighting training at all. What could he do with training? Martin decided that he was going to have to find out.

Assuming they survived this.

Another alien appeared in front of Martin, weapon leveled. Martin had just enough time to raise his shield before the bolt struck, knocking him backwards. He fell, gasping for breath, hearing the now too-familiar sound of the energy weapon firing. Then Captain America was standing over him, helping him to his feet. He looked concerned, and Martin didn't know why until he spoke.

"Your armor is gone."

Martin blinked, puzzled, then looked down at himself and his normal clothes. His jeans were torn, as was his jacket, and there was a long scorch mark down the right sleeve.

"Martin?" Douglas said, coming up next to him. He looked around, then pointed to a deep entryway. "Over there." He grabbed Martin's arm and dragged him over, pushing him down to sit on a piece of rubble while fishing in his pocket. He handed something to Martin. "Here. Eat."

"Since when do you carry Aero bars in your pocket?" Martin asked, tearing the wrapper off and taking a bite.

"Since I started reading up on the care and feeding of witches," Douglas answered tartly. "We haven't had lunch, and you didn't eat much breakfast. You've been using magic at a frightening rate. I'm frankly shocked you've lasted this long!"

"Magic?" Captain America repeated. "This... isn't some sort of advanced technology?"

Martin smiled weakly, shaking his head. "No. This is all me."

Captain America looked askance. "You're a witch? A devil-worshiper?"

"No!" Martin gasped. "No! Church of England. Not all witches are devil-worshipers, Captain."

"That's a relief." Captain America looked out, up the street. "Will you be all right here?"

"We're fine. Go!" Douglas told him, shooing him out into the street. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out another Aero bar, handing it to Martin. "You keep eating."

"Yes, sir."

#

Two candy bars and ten minutes later, Martin had recovered enough that his armor reappeared. Douglas frowned. "Can you control that?" he asked.

"No," Martin answered. "I have no idea where this came from, or what I'm doing."

"And yet you do it so well," Douglas said drily. "All right. We look to be clear. Are we going?"

"You even have to ask?" Martin took a long breath, feeling the weight of his sword in his hand once more. "Let's go." He stepped out, and almost bumped into a woman. A gorgeous red-head, wearing a tight black jumpsuit.

"Well. He wasn't kidding," she said, looking amused. "You're Martin." She looked at Douglas. "And you're Douglas."

"My dear, I will be whatever you wish me to be," Douglas said fervently. She grinned.

Martin glared at his first officer, then looked back at the woman."Yes. I'm Martin. I assume you're on our side?"

She nodded. "Captain Rogers said that you two were around here. Told me to look for Prince Valiant. If it was anyone else, I'd have thought he was joking--"

"That would be me, yes," Martin said. "Where do you need us? And what can we do?"

"We need to get up there," she pointed to Stark Tower. "And Captain Rogers needs someone to watch his back."

"You can fly?" Martin asked. She grinned again.

"No. But that hasn't stopped me. Up or down?"

"I can't fly," Martin said. Then he frowned. "I don't think. But I'm not going to try and find out now. We'll cover Captain America."

"Good. This way."

She led them the rest of the way, darting from cover to cover down a street that seemed unnaturally quiet. Overhead, gliders soared and screamed, and once, one of the dragon-ships loomed overhead, knocking bricks from an already battered building as it cornered and disappeared.

"How do you stop those things?" Douglas asked.

"The Hulk," the woman answered simply. "Or Ironman. They've both stopped a couple. But until we get to that machine--"

"It's a machine?" Martin interrupted.

"You don't know?"

"Not a damn thing."

"All right. Very quickly. There's a thing, an alien artifact--"

"Isn't it always?"

"Shut up, Douglas," Martin grumbled.

"It's called the Tesseract. Loki stole it, and is using it to keep that portal open. There's a machine up there, and if we can get to it--"

"We can close the gate," Martin finished. "And you're going to try?"

She nodded, calmly drawing a gun and firing past Martin. He turned to see an alien fall, then turned back. "What other choice do we have?" she asked.

"Right. None that I can see. I just..." Martin looked up, at the bright light and the dark gash in the sky.

"What?"

"It feels like magic. The power, I mean. It's strong enough that I can get a sense of it, and it feels..." he shrugged. "I don't know."

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?" the woman offered. Martin nodded.

"Yes, and modern quantum mechanics has more to do with magic than science, or so my teacher tells me. Maybe they are the same. I don't know. I've never seen an electron. All I know is that whatever it is feels like magic."

The woman was staring at him. "Maybe you _should_ come with me," she said.

"And how would we get me up there?" Martin countered.

"Good point." She fired again, then shook her head. "Come on. There's Captain Rogers."

It was impressive, watching her as Captain America launched her onto one of the gliders. Then Martin was forced to ignore what she might have been doing, because things got very busy on the street. Martin's world narrowed to his arm, his blade, his shield, and the alien in front of him, until he heard Captain America's voice.

"Stark, these things are still coming!"

Martin turned, saw Thor standing near Captain America. Then, a roaring sound overhead. He looked up to see a pair of contrails.

"Oh, dear God. A missile!" Douglas said, coming up to stand at Martin's shoulder.

"And Ironman," Martin added. "He's... what is he doing?"

"Through the gate!" Douglas shouted. "He's taking the missile through the gate!"

The next several minutes went by in slow-motion. Ironman disappeared through the gate with the missile. The gate started to close, and a small, dark figure came plummeting back through just as the sky sealed itself once more, and the streets echoed with the sounds of collapsing alien soldiers and crashing ships.

"Son of a gun," Captain America breathed.

Martin started to relax, then realized there was something wrong, just as Thor starting to swing his hammer. "He's not slowing down."

"No," Martin whispered. He reached within, felt for his magic, raised his hand... and felt his power fade like a guttering candleflame. He was spent. Above, the Hulk somehow caught Ironman in midair, crashing into a building, then into several cars to cushion his fall. They scrambled over, and Martin saw Thor rip the faceplate off of Ironman, revealing a man who looked more than unconscious.

Stillness. Until the Hulk roared. Ironman jerked, gasping, and looked around wildly.

"What just happened?" he demanded. "Please tell me nobody kissed me."

Martin looked at Douglas, licked his lips, and burst out laughing.


	5. Chapter 5

In the aftermath, Martin and Douglas sat side by side on a surprisingly undamaged strip of curb, watching as soldiers in black uniforms worked side-by-side with the New York Police to try and make sense out of chaos.

"Do you have your mobile?" Douglas asked. "I lost mine."

Martin patted his coat pockets, discovered that the right pocket was completely missing. "No. Mine is gone. How are we going to get back to LaGuardia, do you think?"

"The tube will be running eventually, I suppose," Douglas said. "What about your wallet?"

"That I have." Martin tipped his head back and groaned. "I'm not flying tomorrow, Douglas. I'm sleeping."

"You're going to be able to sleep, after all this?" Douglas asked.

"I'm not going to have a choice. I'm knackered, and I feel like I've been hollowed out. Willow is going to kick my arse from London to Slayer Central and back for pushing this hard."

"You did brilliantly," Douglas said quietly.

"Thank you."

"There you are!"

Martin blinked and looked around, seeing Captain America coming towards them, escorting a young woman, and a man carrying a sleeping baby. He frowned, then remembered.

"Claire?"

"It is you!" she gasped, starting to cry. Martin struggled to his feet, and found himself holding her as she hugged him. "David, this is him. This is the man who saved us!"

Daivd came forward, shifting his sleeping son to one arm so he could shake Martin's hand. "Thank you. I just... that doesn't seem to be enough. But... thank you."

"You're welcome," Martin said. He reached out and gently touched the baby's soft hair. "You are very, very welcome. You both take care. And if you're ever in London, ring me up. My name is Martin Crieff."

"Martin Crieff. We'll remember," Claire assured him. She kissed his cheek, then left on her husband's arm. Martin smiled as he watched them go, then staggered as someone slapped him on the back. He caught himself, turning to see Thor smiling broadly at him.

"You did very well, Martin."

"Thank you," Martin answered. "Did you find him? Loki?"

Thor sobered. "Yes. My brother will be... dealt with. Once I take him home."

"Your brother?" Martin repeated. "Oh. I'm sorry. That's hard. I know. I... had one of those. A brother who... well, mine tried to kill my wife."

"You understand, then." Thor nodded. "Thank you, Martin. Perhaps I will see you again."

"I'd be honored to offer you guest-right."

Thor looked pleased. "You know our ways? Well... and Captain Rogers says you are a seithman?"

Martin closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Seithman... ah.. Yes. Yes, I'm a witch. Well, wizard."

Thor nodded again. "And is he your--?"

"No, no, no!" Martin said with a laugh. "No, he's... ah. God, my head is spinning. Fostbrothir?"

"Ah, yes," Thor said, nodding. 

"When did you learn Norse?" Douglas demanded.

"Willow says I resonate with Norse rituals," Martin answered.

"And I'm not your what?"

"Not my lover," Martin answered. "Seithcraft was usually practiced by women. Seithmen were rare, and for some reason, usually homosexual."

"Interesting. Before we have any more comparative religions, perhaps we can find you something to eat? Before you fall down?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine, really," Martin protested.

"Fine," Thor repeated. "Then why are you leaning?"

"Leaning?" Martin asked.

"If you'd just get that arm?" Douglas said to Thor. "I'll get this one. I assume you know where there might be some food for this poor, insane hero?"

#

Martin found himself dragged into an area that seemed to be swarming with more people in those black uniforms, pushed into a chair, and ordered to stay there. Douglas found another chair and sat down with him, and Martin watched as people came and went. He took a long breath and said, "We'll need to find someone who will lend us a mobile. This probably made the international news. Liv and Helena will be frantic."

"Will this do?" An expensive mobile was shoved under Martin's nose. He followed the hand up to the arm, and from there further up to see that the man holding the mobile was Ironman, now out of his battered armor.

"Here, take it. Call whoever. It's all right." He pushed the mobile into Martin's hand, then grabbed another chair and sat down. "Food is coming. If I'd known you hadn't eaten, I'd have dragged you off with us when we got food. Why is your name familiar?"

"Thank you. For this," Martin held the mobile up. "And for the food. And I don't know." He dialed, and blinked in surprise when his wife's name came up on the screen. "How do you know my wife?" he asked. Then the call connected, and he heard Livvy's voice. "Tony? What on earth are you calling for at this hour?"

"No, darling, it's me," Martin said. "It's Martin."

"Martin!" Livvy gasped. "Oh, thank God! Are you all right?"

"We're fine. We're both fine. I don't know about Carolyn or Arthur, though--"

"We've heard from them. They're at LaGuardia and frantic. You're with Douglas? Helena is here. And Herc and Molly and my fathers. We've been watching the news and trying not to panic. What happened are you sure you're all right?"

Martin smiled. "I'm fine. We're both fine. And, in a nutshell? More aliens. Douglas is here. Do you want to put Helena on?"

"In a moment. She's... well, she can't come get on the line right now." Livvy went quiet for a moment. "Darling, I was so worried."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll be home as soon as I can. The day after tomorrow, probably. I am not going to be able to fly tomorrow. I'm going to have to sleep. I've run dry."

"You were fighting?" Livvy had never sounded so shrill before. "Martin!"

"I'm fine, Lady Crieff. Really. And I had no choice. I'll tell you everything once I get home. I promise. Now put Helena on." He passed the mobile to Douglas, then turned to Ironman. "You have my wife's number in your mobile. Why?"

"Who's your wife? And I'm Tony, by the way. Nice to meet you, Valiant."

"Martin. And Olivia Holmes."

Tony laughed. "Now I know why your name is familiar. Your wedding announcement! Nice to see Liv caught herself a good one." He frowned slightly. "I sent you something good, didn't I? I hope I did."

"Honestly, I'd have to ask Liv," Martin admitted. "How do you know her?"

"Work. She's a top-notch programmer. You're a flier?"

"Commercial pilot."

"Nice. We'll have to talk shop. They're not going to reopen the airports for a couple of days, you know." Tony looked past them. "Hey, one of you get Fury on the line. We need to make arrangements to get these two heroes home."

"Our plane--"

"Don't worry about it," Tony said with a smile. "Liv's got good taste. And ginger. Always did like ginger. Here's your dinner."

Martin looked up to see the pretty red-head, and rose to his feet, taking a pair of bags from her. He could feel the heat of the contents rising from the paper. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. I wanted to say thank you," she answered. "You were a big help."

"I never did get your name."

"Are you making a pass?" she asked. 

"No," Martin said slowly. "I've seen you fight, and I value my own skin. If a pass is what you want, I'll let you make the first move. If you want to make a move on a married man."

She smiled. "Not today. And I'm Natasha."

"Natasha. I'm Martin. Thank you."

"Sit and eat, Martin." She walked away, and Martin slumped back into his chair.

"Got a way with women," Tony remarked. "And... oh, here they come."

Martin turned, seeing a knot of black-clad soldiers coming towards them. In the middle, battered, chained, and wearing a cruel-looking muzzle, was a slightly-built man with long, dark hair. He glanced at them as he went past, and Martin felt himself shiver. There had been something in the other man's eyes...

"Is that--?"

"Loki. Yeah," Tony answered. "Eat your food, Martin. You look like you're about to blow away, and us guys in armor need to look after each other."

#

To Martin's complete shock, about a half an hour later, as he and Douglas were finishing their dinner, a black-clad soldier came up to them. "Captain Crieff? Mister Richardson? If you'll come with me?" he said.

"Where are we going?" Douglas asked.

"Home, sir."

Martin blinked and looked at Tony. "Thank you."

"Not a problem. Look, give Liv my love, and tell her I'll call. I'm supposed to be in London in a few weeks. If I make it, I'll call you."

"I look forward to it." Martin held his hand out, smiling. Tony took his hand, held it firmly, then winked. 

"She definitely has great taste. See you in London. Go get some sleep."

Douglas snickered, but refused to say anything as he and Martin followed the soldier to a armored car. "Where are we going?" Martin asked. "We've got passengers, and our plane--"

"Everything will be taken care of, sir." 

And everything was. By the time Martin and Douglas arrived at Laguardia, there was a relief pilot and co-pilot waiting, both of whom seemed to have already met with Carolyn's approval. She hugged Martin tightly, absolutely forbade Arthur to ask them any questions, then sent Martin to go lay on the couch. He was asleep before the engines started.

#

"Martin?"

He heard the voice, but sleep was far more attractive right now. She called his name again, then warm lips pressed against his. That woke Martin up, and he opened his eyes and pulled his wife into his arms.

".... lovely wake up call," he murmured when he let her go. "How long have we been home?"

"About eight hours."

Martin sat up, spilling Livvy onto the floor. "How long?"

"GERTI touched down last night at about eleven," Livvy answered. "No one could wake you up. I called Willow, and she said to just let you sleep. So we put a blanket over you and left you. Are you all right?"

Martin considered the question. "I think... no. I'm still feeling worn to the bone. And I'm starving."

"Come on. We'll get you home and get some food into you." Livvy got off the floor and held her hand out. "Come on, Martin. You can tell me about it in the car."

"You drove?" Martin asked.

"No. Uncle John is outside."

"Ah." Martin slowly got to his feet, then reached out and pulled Livvy to him, holding on to her tightly. "I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought I was going to die out there," he whispered into her hair.

"You're here now. You're safe."

Martin nodded, swallowing. Remembering the odd look in Loki's blue-green eyes. 

"For how long, Liv?" he asked softly. He swallowed again. "Let's go home."


End file.
